


Herbology Lesson

by heyitsamorette (AmoretteHD)



Series: Kissing Lessons [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Am I Gay?, Blow Jobs, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 09:27:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6848860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmoretteHD/pseuds/heyitsamorette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry continues to practice his kissing skills... and perhaps a little practice in other things as well. Thank you Gracerene for the beta!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Herbology Lesson

After snogging Ron, Harry was left with a thirst he couldn’t quench. He knew one thing: he loved kissing. He found himself fantasising about it a lot, wondering what it would be like to kiss that bloke at the Ravenclaw table, or that Hufflepuff on the Quidditch team, or that Seventh Year Slytherin walking in front of him on his way to his lesson. It was getting a bit out of hand, really. There was hardly a bloke he spotted that he didn’t wonder about snogging. He just couldn’t stop imagining what one person’s lips would feel like versus another’s, how their kissing styles might differ. 

He and Ron didn’t kiss again, and to be honest, Harry was a little relieved that Ron hadn’t brought it up. Ron went back to being Lavender’s boyfriend and Harry’s best mate, which suited Harry just fine. Actually, the person Harry was most curious about currently was Neville. 

There was something safe about Neville that wasn’t there with Ron. Perhaps because with Ron, Harry’s first friend in the whole world, there was something to lose. Harry couldn’t let himself fuck up their relationship; he liked how everything was so easy and normal with Ron. But he and Neville had never really had a strong relationship to begin with, so they couldn’t fuck things up too badly. The worst that could happen was that they’d get bored of one another and just… fizzle out, go back to being acquaintances and roommates. 

Harry sat a row away from Neville in Transfigurations… staring at him. He didn’t really know how to approach the subject. One didn’t just go up to someone in the Great Hall and say, “Hey there, would you like to snog for a bit? We’re both blokes and this is really out of the blue, but let’s just make out for a while.”

No, he would have to approach this delicately. 

As he sat there in class, bored, Harry contemplated Neville physically. Sure, Neville wasn’t the absolute fittest bloke, not like Diggory had been or like Malfoy was -- full stop on thoughts about Malfoy, though -- but he did have a sort of appeal. Neville was cute. Not hot, but cute. Which was also kind of hot in a way. Harry’s brain often made very little sense in regards to these things. 

Neville had long since lost his youthful softness, and his body could no longer be described as chubby or plump. He was not an athlete and didn’t have an athlete’s body, which was perfectly acceptable as far as Harry was concerned. Actually, Harry was more interested in pondering what Neville’s cock looked like. It was definitely one of those thoughts that made him hot under his robes. He was not used to letting himself openly indulge in these kinds of fantasies, but he couldn’t deny he was intrigued by Neville. 

Neville was so sweet and shy that Harry found himself fantasising about being a bit... aggressive with him. Not in an indecent, terrible way, but just a bit more _active_ than he had been with Ron. In one fantasy, Harry pushed Neville against a wall and placed a hand at Neville’s throat while he pressed their lips together. 

Harry exhaled hard and decided to stop thinking along those lines while he was still in Transfiguration. 

Neville glanced over at him, saw Harry looking, and then smiled. It was so endearing, Harry smiled back, and even raised his hand in a subtle wave. Neville’s smile grew into a grin and he subtle-waved back. 

Harry felt a strange rush of triumph. 

He didn’t really know how to get Neville’s attention _in that way_ , and his brain kept reminding him that he didn’t even know if Neville was into blokes so he shouldn’t get his hopes high to begin with. Still, Harry couldn’t resist the possibility of snogging Neville. He couldn’t help it, the challenge itself made him feel all kinds of high. 

When class was over, Harry ignored Ron and Hermione, who were also ignoring each other (Hermione was never going to forgive him about Lavender), and beelined straight to Neville’s side. He casually, but purposefully, knocked shoulders with him. 

“Hey, Neville.” Harry grinned. 

“Hey, Harry.” Neville’s smile was more unsure this time. Harry never really approached Neville like this, and he wondered if Neville found it weird. 

Maybe some friendly conversation was in order. “What subject have you got next?”

“Herbology. We have all the same subjects, Harry…"

Harry frowned. “We do?”

“You need to pay attention more, Harry,” Neville mumbled, rolling his eyes. His cheeks were pink. 

“Well since we’re going the same way, I’ll walk with you.”

Neville crinkled his eyebrows together. “Where’s Ron?” he asked, looking around. “Or Hermione?”

“Who knows. Listen, Neville, there’s an essay due tomorrow in Herbology and I think I need help on part of it.” Brilliant, this was a brilliant plan, Harry gave himself major props for coming up with it. “I was going to ask Hermione to help me, but she’s got so much of her own work to do, I’d hate to burden her. And since you’re so good at Herbology…” he smiled again, and the corners of Neville’s lips raised just a bit, enough for Harry to get distracted by them, “... maybe you could help me.”

“Well,” Neville thought about it as they walked. “I’ve already finished mine, so I suppose I have a bit of free time on my hands.”

“That’s great! Would you be able to meet me after dinner tonight in the library?” Wait, no, the library? That was so… public. “Actually, come to think of it, the greenhouse would be better so I can observe the plants I’m writing about. Sometimes I forget what they… er… look like.”

“Hm, yes, it is a good idea to have plants on hand for practical purposes. I guess it wouldn’t be a problem to meet you in the greenhouse.”

“Perfect. Thank you so much, Neville. This is such a big help.”

“Oh, it’s no problem, Harry!”

They continued to walk through the hall that led out to the grounds. Loads of students were passing them on their way, coming and going from their own lessons. It was always like this between lessons, seeing many friendly and familiar faces and hearing all kinds of chatter. However, sometimes, one was bound to pass a less than friendly face…

One that wore a lofty smirk, piercing eyes, and was topped with a glorious sweep of blond hair. 

“Ugh, Malfoy's coming this way,” Neville said. 

A wave of protectiveness rushed over Harry. He had always hated how Malfoy tended to single Neville out to pick on. Malfoy was a right bully and preyed on the weak, and Harry wanted to punish him for making Neville feel even the tiniest bit of trepidation when he walked by. 

Harry ended up glaring at Malfoy as he approached. When their eyes locked, Malfoy’s face clouded with a scowl. He glared back just as fiercely. 

“What are you looking at, Pot Face?” he spat.

“Pot face?” Harry snorted. “Is that the best you’ve got today? You must be tired or something. What the hell is a pot face?”

“It’s you, that’s what it is.”

Harry threw his head back and laughed, thrilled when Neville let out a quiet little chuckle of his own. “You’re such a laugh, Malfoy.” He continued to walk away with Neville tagging along behind him, feeling as high as if he were soaring above the Quidditch pitch. Malfoy was probably fuming that he failed to get a rise out of him. And really, what was that insult, Pot Face? Malfoy was beginning to lose his touch. Not that he had much to begin with.

“I wish I could handle Malfoy as well as you do,” Neville said, looking at Harry with such admiring eyes, Harry felt himself flush. Somewhat with bashfulness, but also with a bit of pride and definitely with dash of something like desire. 

“Malfoy’s nothing.” He shrugged, feeling even cooler and more capable by the second. 

“Yeah,” Neville agreed, “he really is nothing.” He got a determined look in his eyes and Harry could see the Gryffindor in him. “He used to intimidate me as a child, but not anymore.” Neville raised his chin. “I’m 16 now.”

Harry looked back over his shoulder. Malfoy was just turning his head away.

* * * 

They sat very close together on two stools. On the table in front of them lay a mess of potted plants, clumps of fragrant fertilizer, and shiny pruning clippers. On top of all that sat Neville’s thick textbook and Harry’s (now stained in places) roll of parchment. The darkness outside surrounded them like a curtain, and the gas lamps hanging from the ceiling cast a warm, intimate glow.

Their proximity was not exactly an accident. Harry had kept pushing his stool closer until their knees bumped together. 

“Are you listening to me, Harry?” 

Harry raised his eyes from Neville’s mouth to his brown eyes. “Of course I am.”

“You aren’t paying attention to anything I’m saying.” 

“Yeah, I am.” Harry pointed to the leafy yellow plant on the table. “That there’s poisonous.”

Neville nodded. “And how do you make it safe for consumption?”

“Er… you…” Harry didn’t even remember Neville talking about that bit. 

“...soak it in toad water for three hours on the night of a waning crescent moon.”

“Exactly.”

Neville sighed. “Harry, you need to know this for your essay. Are you feeling ill or something? You look a bit pink and your eyes seem unfocused.”

Harry’s first instinct was to apologize, but then he realised something: it was now or never. This was the moment, and it was ripe for the picking. But Harry couldn’t just lean in and plant one on him, as that would surely freak Neville out. He didn’t want to be chasing a screaming Neville back up the castle. Or be punched in the face. Or hexed. 

No, it was best to approach the topic with a little bit of stealth. Anyway, he still had no idea if Neville liked blokes at all or if he would want to kiss Harry. The thought of rejection clenched in his stomach, but Harry gathered his courage and pushed his nerves aside. 

“Actually, Neville, the truth is I am a bit distracted by something, yeah.”

“I can tell, you haven’t been paying attention to anything I’ve been saying this whole time.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I really appreciate you helping me out with this essay. But the thing is,” Harry said, his breath stuck in his chest, “remember yesterday when you walked into the room and Ron and I were sitting on the bed?”

It was Neville’s turn to flush pink at the neck. Did he suspect anything they were doing? It was possible the idea had dawned on him since then. He wouldn’t look so uncomfortable if he thought they’d just been playing exploding snap. “Yeah,” was all he said, waiting for Harry to continue. 

“Well, he was… helping me figure something out.” Oh, he was on dangerous ground. The reality of what he was confessing broke upon him like a wave breaking on cliff rocks, and he wondered if he was insane for confessing this. Fear poked at his guts. Should he be telling Neville this all for the measly chance of a kiss?

“Figure what out, Harry?” Neville looked like he was about to open an old cupboard and feared there’d be spiders. 

Harry swallowed, his entire face burning hot. He’d come this far, there was no turning back. Only the potential prize of snogging Neville urged Harry to just blurt it out. “If I liked kissing blokes.”

Neville swallowed. “Blimey, Harry, I knew it was something like that.”

“You did?” He wasn’t running away, so maybe he wasn’t so opposed to the idea. 

“You two jumped apart so fast, I thought maybe I’d imagined it. But I could have sworn you were… kissing … when I walked in.”

Harry’s stomach did all kinds of twists and turns, but he was glad about the direction of this. At least Neville wasn’t bolting. At least he wasn’t reaching for his wand. 

“Does that bother you?” Harry asked. 

Neville gave an awkward laugh. “No, it doesn’t bother me, I have no problem with that sort of… _thing_.”

“Boys with other boys?”

“Yes.” Neville swallowed. “I just never thought Ron…”

“He’s not.” Harry was almost positive of it. “He’s not gay, if that’s what you mean. At least, I don’t think so, but we didn’t really talk about it. Besides, he was just helping me figure something out.”

“You mean, _you_ might be...?” He raised his eyebrows in place of the word. Was he scared to say it out loud? Perhaps he was dealing with similar feelings, himself?

“I liked kissing Cho,” Harry said, wondering even as he said it how true that was. All he really remembered was the tear tracks pressing into his cheeks and the whirlwind his head was in afterward. Nothing like what he had felt with Ron. “But I really liked kissing Ron.” Admitting it out loud got the butterflies fluttering again. 

“So you’re gay?”

“I’m not sure.” Now, this was the moment. “I think I need more practice.”

Neville was a statue for a few seconds, and Harry mirrored him because he was too afraid to speak. He didn’t want to be the one to break the silence, but Neville was just staring like he’d been Petrified. What was Neville thinking? Was he panicking? Was he intrigued? God, it was causing havoc in Harry’s stomach, all the nerves tangled up at once. 

Fuck words, Harry was better at action anyway. Besides, he had to move or he might spontaneously combust on the spot. He closed his eyes and leaned in. 

When their lips touched, that same urgency from his fantasies came rushing back, and Harry pressed in closer. He stood from his stool and stood within the space of Neville’s spread legs. 

Neville’s jumper was warm and cozy in Harry's hands where he placed them gently on Neville’s shoulders. 

His lips were softer than Ron’s, that was the first thing Harry noticed. Neville was softer overall, both physically and in demeanor. Where Ron was demanding, Neville was compliant; not that Harry minded in the least. Just the opposite. A fire rose up in him when he realised Neville was kissing him back, acquiescing to Harry’s advances. Harry took the back of Neville’s head in one hand as he deepened the kiss. 

Their lips smacked lightly together, the sounds of their kisses the only thing audible in the greenhouse. Harry felt the blood rush down, gathering in his cock until his trousers felt uncomfortably tight. 

Harry broke away and looked down at Neville. He still had his eyes closed. Slowly, he opened them, and he looked at Harry almost with stars in his eyes. 

“Wow,” Neville breathed. 

“Yeah.” Harry felt just as wowed by it, his heart hammering in his chest. 

“Does that help clear things up for you?”

“A little.”

“You mean, you’re still unsure?” Neville’s bottom lip was flushed and glistening, and Harry felt a thrill at having done that. He certainly wanted to do it again. 

“Maybe I need to try one more time. Maybe we should try using tongue this time.” Neville’s shoulders tensed. “Is that all right?”

Neville nodded. “You need to be sure.”

“And that would really help.”

“Well then it’s all right with me, Harry.”

He leaned in again. Neville left his lips parted and waiting, and Harry took the lead he was given. But he was tentative, shy about deepening their kiss. Neville was just sitting there, not reciprocating much. 

Disappointment and frustration seemed to spur him into grabbing Neville by the waist, and that pressed Harry’s hips against Neville’s groin. Neville reached out and grabbed Harry’s elbows, making a needy sound in his throat. Harry’s cock roared to life at that. Something primal in him took over and he bit Neville’s bottom lip. 

He wanted something else. 

It scared him that he even had this idea. It was too much, especially since they had just started kissing. Neville would never do it. 

He ground his hips into Neville’s groin, testing him. Plus it felt amazing, and Harry only just resisted the urge to keep at it. Otherwise he would be rutting against Neville until he came. 

“Wow, Harry, you’re… hard.”

“Yeah.” He pecked Neville on the lips. “I think I have my answer now. I must really like kissing blokes.” Neville huffed a little laugh, and Harry grinned. “Is that okay?”

“That you like kissing blokes?”

“That I’m hard and kissing you?”

Neville’s voice seemed to stick to the back of his throat. “I don’t mind.”

He was so afraid to ask, it came out just louder than a whisper. “Do you like it?”

Neville wasn’t able to say anything, only his chest moved up and down.

“Do you want to see it?”

“Harry, I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Neither have I. But that doesn’t matter.” He held Neville’s gaze steadily. “Do you want to see it?”

Slowly, Neville nodded. 

Harry couldn’t keep his fingers from racing to his trousers, unbuckling his belt, and undoing his buttons and zipper. It was like his cock was now controlling his brain, and consequently, everything coming out of his mouth. But Harry wanted to shout _thankyouthankyou_ for the outcome that was him taking his hard cock out and Neville staring at it slack-jawed. 

He only lowered his pants as much as he needed to take it out. He gripped the shaft in his fist. He knew what he wanted from Neville, ever since he’d focused on that pink lower lip. The way Neville was staring at Harry’s cock, like he’d never seen a cock before, gave Harry a confidence he thought he could only achieve through Felix Felices. He stroked himself for good measure, watching Neville’s eyes grow wide. 

“What are you going to do?” Harry asked. He knew exactly what he wanted Neville to do. But could he ask for it? It seemed somehow better to let Neville do it on his own, if he wanted to. But perhaps he could ask just a little bit… “Do you want to kiss it?”

Neville raised his head, looking Harry straight in the eye, and there was something determined there. Harry could tell he was going to do it. The anticipation made him leak onto his hand. 

Carefully leaning down, Neville reached out and grabbed Harry’s hips with both hands. His breath came out in warm puffs over Harry’s cockhead, and Harry let go of his shaft and moved his hand out of the way. 

Pursing his lips, Neville gave it a kiss right over the tip, sucking lightly for a moment on the slit. Harry breathed in hard, tensing his legs. It not only felt amazing, but it looked amazing. Especially when Neville pulled back and Harry’s pre-come shined on his lips. 

Neville slipped off the stool and got onto his knees. Harry’s cock bobbed in front of his face, and he kissed it again. He seemed to like the sponginess of the head, the feeling as he wrapped his lips around it, because he kept doing it. Harry realised he was making a ridiculous, high-pitched noise as he silently begged Neville to take more of him in his mouth. 

But Neville went slow, first licking up the underside, making a face when the head caught him in the eye. It was clear he had never done this before, that he was experimenting. Harry didn’t care, it still felt really good. 

Then without warning, Neville swallowed him whole. 

Harry reached back, grabbing the edge of the table for support. His knees might give out any second. “Ungh…” came a strange sound from his throat. 

Neville pulled off, choking. His face became pink all over as he coughed a few times. Harry placed a hand on his head, not pushing or demanding, but just there. It seemed to help Neville a bit, and he tightened his grip on Harry’s hips and leaned in again. 

The sight of his hard cock sliding in and out of Neville’s mouth was mesmerising. Harry became entranced by the steady rhythm. Neville never took in as much as before, lest he gag, but Harry didn’t mind in the least. He was getting close anyways. His balls were tightening up every second. 

Neville leaned in deep just one more time, and Harry couldn’t hold himself back. His climax overtook him, and his hand became a fist in Neville’s hair. Eyes shut tight, Harry jutted his hips as he came, his mind wrapped up in the glory of his orgasm. 

Gasping for breath, he opened his eyes to see come dripping from Neville’s mouth. He thought he could come all over again from the sight. Neville wiped it away from the sleeve of his jumper, and Harry remembered to let go of his hair. 

“Neville, I--- I’m sorry, I --”

“Not to worry, Harry,” Neville said, voice strained. 

Harry reached over and helped him to his feet again. When they were both standing, Neville looked down at Harry’s still semi-erect cock and a little smile graced his lips. Harry hastily tucked himself away, looking away from Neville as he zipped up his pants. “Wow,” he muttered as he did it. 

Neville’s smile faltered. “Harry, do you think we could not tell anyone about this?”

Harry shook his head emphatically. “Course not, I would never tell anyone.”

“You won’t tell Ron, either?”

“Neville, this is just between us.” Frankly, Harry didn’t want to tell anyone. He was perfectly happy to keep this their own little secret. He wasn’t ready to out himself -- he hadn’t even known for sure what he liked until these last couple of days! -- and he was sure Neville needed to wrap his head around what they did too. But he worried... “Do you regret it?”

“No, it felt good.” 

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m glad. I’m just sorry I jizzed in your face, Nev.” He bit his lip to keep from grinning. 

“Maybe next time I’ll jizz in yours.”

It shouldn’t have sent such a spike of lust through him, but Harry found he was certainly not opposed to the idea. “Well, I do need to return the favor.”

Neville smiled again. “Another lesson, perhaps.”

**Author's Note:**

> Contact me on tumblr: [@heyitsamorette](https://heyitsamorette.tumblr.com/)


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